LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 16, 18 June 1874, Page 4

LITERATURE.

BERTHE’S WEDDING DAY. Concluded. Berlho walks on silently. The sun beats fiercely on her bead but she will not ask P r her parasol. She cannot force herself to speak to Jacob ; he keeps a little in front, and never once looks over his shoulder, even when he answers the questions of hisraother-iu-]aw ; for Tonine is in a ve~y gay and garrulous mood; she has accomplished her purpose, and she feels satisfied with herself and aB the world besides. Her child looks well, and has received some useful presents ; and the breakfast provided by Madame Haulard was excellent. Touine has drunk more wine than she has ever drunk in her life. She is in far too merry a mood to notice the silence of the bride or the ghastly pallor of toe bridegroom, for as they now come in sight of the turn in the road where the chapel stands Jacob’s face has grown awful to behold ; his lips have lost all color and he continually wipes his clammy forehead with his handkerchief. Just then comes a sound borne along from Viileqnicr, and Jacob starts violently and looks round. No one notices him except Berthe; for the wailing sound becomes distinct in another instant, and the procession greet it with a merry laugh. It is the group of sailors from Yillequier, and Jules is playing ‘ Marlbrook’ on an accordion very much out of tune. The sailors halt at the turning which leads to the chapel, and the procession also halts : it is custon'iary for the bride and bridegroom to pass on together and kneel side by side on the bench in front of the shrine. Also it is cusloa'iuy for the newly-married pair to advance hand-in-hand and to kneel down together an instant as they pass the Calvary which is just outside the chapel. But Jacob either does not know or intends to set aside these customs. He stands back that Berthe may pass in, and he waits while she kneels at the Calvary, then he follows her slowly and unwillingly to the little shrine at right angles with the high road, but completely bidden from it by a massive group of trees ; the ground is level for some little way to the left of the shrine, and then, instead of the steeply-slooping bank, which they have been skirting on their way from Caudebcc, there is a precipitous decent to the river, The water is very deep here, so deep that when the barre is expected to be at its worst the Caudebcc boats go quickly down to Barre-y-va, and lie snugly in the creek made by the projecting point till the furious wave has passed by. The fishermen say there are holes here of fearful depth. The procession stands waiting; they will all go up to the shrine to offer their prayers by-and-by, but they give precedence to Jacob and Berthe. buddenly aloud shriek buist through the thick trees, and at once Monsieur Haulard aud Jules Sergant spring forward to the chapel. Alphonse Poireau hangs back, but the woman aud the two gendarmes press on eagerly, for the silence that follows the shriek has been broken by fierce, shrill words that increase each moment in vehemence. When Madame Haulard arrives in front of the chapel she sees this : A tall dark woman pointing and frowning fiercely at Jacob Leduc ; Berthe has flushed checks and wild excited eyes, and Monsieur Haulard aud the sailor look full of horror. ‘Are you men, either of you?’ the darkeyed woman asks, in her fierce, high pitched voice. ‘ Do you not hear what I say 1 Listen then, you others ’ —she turns to the new-comers and points to the shrinking figure of the stout gendarme, ‘Twoyears ago I came to Barre-y-va to pray for a prosperous voyage for my son Auguste Durand. I came by the latest tide ; if I had waited a day the boat would have started early in the morning, but I was impatient, and I left Havre in the afternoon. It was a rainy evening and the light went early ; it was growing dark by the time I reached Yillequier. I was told I had better sleep there, aud make my pilgrimage in the morning ; but I was restless, I could not sleep; I asked my way and went on in the dark till I reached this place. I saw the light of the lamp through the trees, and thought I would stay on through the night beside the chapel, in prayer for ray Auguste, and not go on to Caudebec till the morning, for I believed I was much farther off than I really was. I went in and knelt down there’—she points her long brown hand to the bench in front of the grating—‘ and after a bit I think I fell asleep. Suddenly I hear a crashing rumbling sound and a loud cry; the crashing goes on and on, and I hold my breath in terror. Then comes a heavy fall. I listen, but there is ouly silence. 1 say to myself, ‘ Some one has fallen down the steep cliff and has perhaps stunned himself. I must give what help I can.’ la an inslant, before I can move, I hear a stealthy, cautious sound, nearer to me than the fall was ; it is as if some one pushes through the bushes on the other side of the road, I wait—something in this sound frlghtcos me more thaa the other,’ Jacob rouses himself abruptly. 1 What is this folly? Are we men?’ he utters an oath, and looks specially at the two gendarmes, as if he had a right to their support. ‘Why do we listen to a mad woman ? No sane woman would think of sleeping outside the chapel all night in the rain, and because this old witch did this, and because she had a bad dream, she is to fly at mo like a wild cat with impunity ?’ He tries to stand erect; but he almost reels while he speaks, and stammers out the next words : ‘ Come, Berthe, come then ; we have wasted time enough here. If our friends like to amuse themselves with this fury they can do it; but if she follows me to Caudebcc she will be locked up.’ No one heeds him, all the staring faces are full of horror and expectation. Berthe moves closer to Monsieur Haulard, her eyes are full of menace, Madame Durand breaks in on Jacob’s speech at the first pause : Mad mon Dim 1 I have thought all this time that it might be a bad dream, or that the fever had made me mad. I have thought this but I am not a witch or a fury. No, brigand ; I was not mad when I saw you —yes you—come slowly past me, dragging soraetbiug after you, something which sounded heavy before you came in sight, Ah, mon Dieu ! Well for me if I had never stirred—never looked that night ? I should have spared myself many a night of horror since. He ” —she turns from Jacob to Monsieur Haulard—‘ left his burden and went forward to the edge of the steep bank yonder, and then I—l could not help it—l bent forward and I saw what it was he had dragged so slowly —it was the body of a man and it lay just there—there where you stand. I hid myself out of sight before the murderer came back, and then I heard again the heavy dragging over the ground ” —there is a movement among the listeners—‘ aud the sullen

splash below. I tried to cry out, but I could not. I could not even move. When at last I roused myself, dawn had broken ; I looked through the trees, and there on the ground was the cap of a gendarme, with a sprig of myrtle fastened into the band ” ‘ What became of that cap V says llaulard sternly; ‘you should have comconatonce to Caudebec with that, and have made your deposition.’ The woman looks at him grimly. ‘ Monsieur, we cannot always do as we should. Forme, that day I had but strength to crawl back to the road, and there a kind of waggoner picked me up and took me on to Beuzeville ; there I had fever on the brain, and I was scarcely sure till to-day if what I had seen was real or a bad dream. But today, when I saw his face, I knew all was true.’ She points at Jacob ; but no one looks at him, they are too much excited in listening to her. ‘ For the cap, I know nothing— I left it were it lay. No doubt he took care it should never be seen’ She stops with a sudden awe on her face. Berthe has come forward and stands facing Jacob—so pale, so calm, so stern, that excitement dies out of the group ; the stillness is so profound that the girl’s voice strikes a chill into her listeners : ‘ My friends, she speaks the truth—this man, Jacob Leduc, is a murderer ; he murdered my Francois. He told him the high path along the cote was safe, and not dangerous, as I had told him it was, and he was watching for him when he fell. I have felt that he knew something, whenever I looked at that man; and all this time—all this time’ (she turns and looks sternly at the group behind her) ‘ you have pronounced my Francois a faithless coward. This man is his murderer; here is the proof: that evening when—when Francois parted from me, L fixed a sprig of myrtle in his“cap.’ An angry murmur rises round her, and Jules and another of the sailors take firm hold of Jacob. He offers no resistance—he seems paralysed with fear. At Berthe’s first words he has begun to tremble ; the ghastly pallor has come back to his face ; and now he shrinks from the blue eyes which fix so sternly on him. ‘Take me away,’ he murmurs, ‘take me anywhere away from her.’ Monsieur Haulard too shrinks away from Berthe ; there is something awful and unnatural in the terrible calm that possesses her. The sailors lead Jacob away to Caudebec, and there is an instant of silence. Then Monsieur Haulard looks at Berthe. ‘ Mon Dieu 1’ he says, and advances quickly to her. He is too late ; Berthe totters, puts one hand to her heart, and falls at her mother’s feet. ‘ Best so,’ the tailor says to his wife, when at last they reach their home in the Grande Place of Caudebec ; ‘ better that poor Berthe should pass away at once and be spared the end of this tragedy.’